


Revelations

by Michi27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Animal pandemic, Bones gets infected, Bones is put down, Boys Kissing, Ficwip5k, Friends to Lovers, Gabriel's POV, Gay Sam Winchester, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Non-descriptively, Post-Apocalypse, Regular monsters aren't real, Rutting, Sam and Dean aren't "Hunters" in the traditional sense, So infected animals turn vicious and can cross-breed with other animals creating murderous hybrids, Sort of like rabies also with cross-breeding, actually quite soft, ex Marine Sam, gabriel thinks he's straight, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25311682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi27/pseuds/Michi27
Summary: The world is overrun with dangerous, vicious infected animals, and worse, hybrids. To survive, scavengers, or, "hunters" leave Camp Lawrence in pairs to find food and supplies to supplement their food sources.Sam and Gabriel have been hunting partners for a few years now. They trust each other, they're best friends, they know everything about each other! Including the fact Gabriel is straight and Sam is very gay. However, that little fact doesn't stop Sam from giving in to his feelings in a moment of weakness after he's lost a friend and kissing Gabriel.But Gabriel's never been with a guy before, let alone his best friend. Yet he can't stop thinking about that kiss... or all the things he's felt about Sam over the years and never paid attention to.That is, until now. But will he be too late?
Relationships: Gabriel & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Sabriel - Relationship
Comments: 22
Kudos: 43
Collections: #ficwip 5k





	Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of packed a really big idea into a very small challenge, but I think I managed to pull it off! I am so excited about finally sharing it. I would still like to write a short sequel or two to this and elaborate on a few things, but I make no promises xD
> 
> Many thanks go to Muse who beta'd this last minute for me and made it legible! Any further mistakes are my own.
> 
> Now to you, reading this, thank you for being here! I hope you enjoy this story. And If you could take a second to hit that kudos button and leave me a comment at the end I will appreciate you forever!

This one looks like a cross between his third uncle Alistair (twice removed), a cane corso, and… maybe a crocodile? No, seriously. This thing’s got patches of black fur juxtaposed to greenish brown scales all over its body. It almost looks like chunks of its fur were burnt off, leaving scaly skin behind… only it wasn’t.

This thing was born this way, all scaly and furry and ugly as hell. But jesus fucking christ, its maw is about ten inches long with too many fangs sticking out over its black curled lips and some kinda hypersalivation shit going on. Thank fuck he can’t confirm this, but Gabriel’d bet you ten rolls of TP its pupils are ophidian slits in pools of yellow.

He’s seen a lot of fucked up things in the years since the Rab-72 outbreak, but a dog and a crocodile? How the hell do they churn butter?

…. You know what, actually no, Gabriel doesn’t wanna know, thank you very much.

He flattens his back against the brick wall as the… _thing_ ambles down the overgrown street, its thicker-than-an-average-dog-tail dragging across the ground with a scaly _shiiik-shiiik_.

His breath puffs in a mist of air as he waits for it to pass. Twilight has fallen. He’s wondering idly if its dog genes make it warm-blooded for this weather when Sam’s voice pierces the silence. He yells, “Bones, no!” followed by the explosion of a gun that’s deafening even from half a block away, and Gabriel curses.

His scavenged bag of cans and crackers drops to the concrete as he swings the sawn-off shotgun from his shoulder and steps around the corner, aiming for the croco-dog since he’ll now be after Sam like every other godforsaken thing in this city, damnit!

Unfortunately, he finds the ‘brid about three feet from him and growl-barking, faster, apparently than it looks, and Gabriel curses again, backpedaling. “Crap, crap, crap!” He squeezes the trigger just as it launches into the air, yellow-stained fangs snapping at his face. His shotgun recoils, the croco-dog’s head disappears, and Gabriel winces as splatter rains down around him, the beast’s body landing with a thud at his feet. Not taking the time to shudder like he wants to, Gabriel spins on his heels and runs for Sam as two more gunshots split the air followed by a shout of, “Gabriel!”

Gabriel forces his legs a little faster and slams through the door into the house Sam’s voice is coming from. He calls, “Sam!”

“Gabriel!” answers him.

Following his voice, he runs straight and stumbles into the kitchen on his right. Or, what’s left of it. Like most houses it looks ransacked: pans and seasonings strewn across the floor with a spilled box of macaroni scattered over top, papers on the counters, and what looks like a blood stain on the bistro table by the window. There’s a rotting, sweet-sour smell to the place, like mildew and overripe bananas. But what grabs his attention is Sam, over by the walk-in pantry, the door standing open with another, fresher splatter of blood at the base of it. He’s got two… Gabriel doesn’t even know what to call them--rat _things_ \--attacking him. Bigger than rats, like opossums, but not. Their eyes are white, and they’ve got a mouth full of teeth and bushy tails like a squirrel. One of them is on Sam’s arm, the other on his leg. The remains of another two on the floor, clearly dead, and three more are on Bones who’s barking and biting and twisting to try to shake them off his armor. “Shit, Bones!” Gabriel yells, hoisting his shotgun yet knowing he’s already too late as one of them crawls up Bones’s back and bites into his eye.

Sam screams.

“Bones! _No!_ ”

Cursing at his lack of a decent shot, Gabriel swings the shotgun off his shoulder to use as a club, even as a feral cat-like beast springs through the open door, yowling and launching itself at him. Mongrels howl nearby.

Gritting his teeth, Gabriel starts swinging.

******

One thing Gabriel never understood is the science behind why the mutation affects only animals, but looking at the bloody bites on the fleshy parts (well, let’s be honest here, Sam doesn’t really have any “fleshy” parts; all muscle, that one; Gabriel isn’t jealous at all) of Sam’s arm and his calf, right through his clothes, he’s grateful as hell. He got a few scratches himself from that damn cat and narrowly missed getting a chunk out of his leg from a hound. Bones, however… isn’t so lucky.

“Damnit!” Sam curses where’s kneeling on the ground, totally ignoring the blood oozing from his own wounds in favor of examining the bite on Bones’s snout and the bloody muck leaking from one eye. “ _Damnit!_ ” he curses again, his shaking hands achingly tender despite the tone of his voice… even sadder and angrier than Gabriel’s feeling. A whining whimper escapes the doggo, his tail hanging low. The metal plates Sam had fashioned into armor for his pupper five years ago cover his body almost completely, even his belly, except for part of his face and tail. And those damn rat things went straight for them. The toe of Gabriel’s boot meets that box of macaroni, sending it smacking against the wall.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he glances out the window and bites the inside of his cheek to keep the curse inside. And hell, they don’t even have time for this. Time to _mourn_ properly. Time to take care of this… this friend in the most gentle way possible. They’ve bought themselves a lull, but that doesn’t mean they’re safe. More things are likely coming, and soon. They’ve gotta get outta here, but they can’t leave until… Bones.

That damn dog. He hated the thing when he met Sam four-ish years ago, coming into Camp Lawrence as refugees almost the same time he did. But Sam fought for his right to keep that dog, and he proved again and again he was right about him. Bones was well-trained and had helped them in innumerable ways a dozen dozen times.

They’d been so careful all these years… but all it takes is one _damn_ mistake. One damn bite. And Bones now has several.

“Damnit, Bones,” Sam breathes. “I told you not to go in there.” He strokes his snout, tugging the metal plate off his head. “Why did you go in there, bud?”

“Sam,” Gabriel says softly. “I’m sorry… I’m so--.” He bites his lip, hating himself a little bit. “…We _really_ have to go.”

“I know. Fuck. I know, okay?” Sam pushes his forehead to Bones’s, gently fondling the whimpering pup’s ears. He breathes an apology into his fur. “Gabriel, I can’t k--take care of Bones. I just--I can’t--.”

“No, no. Hell, no, Sam.” Swinging the shotgun over his shoulder, Gabriel crosses to his partner and pulls him into a hug that’s quick but hard. This solid, towering, ex-Marine of a man chokes off a sob into Gabriel’s hair, and something inside of him breaks a little hearing it. “Go, Sam.” The effort it takes to keep his voice calm and steady is… more than he thought it would be. “You don’t have to do this. Head back to our camp. I’ll take care of Bones and be right behind you.”

Letting out a heavy breath that’s warm against his neck, Sam nods twice, against his shoulder. Still, it takes him a minute before he can pull back and pick up his gun. He glances one more time at his friend. “Stay, Bones,” he whispers as the pooch looks up at him with one big, sad, brown eye. Sam chokes, and then he marches from the house without a backwards glance.

******

Fighting off the memory of what he had to do to Sam’s dog, the gunshot echoing, still, in his ears, Gabriel catches up to Sam, and they make their way back to camp silently. Sam sits when they arrive, dropping his gun to the ground at his feet and just… staring. Swallowing, Gabriel makes small talk like he usually does, his mouth moving and his throat working automatically as he checks the perimeter, lowers their packs from the trees, lights the large fire they prepared before scavenging the city, and tends to Sam’s wounds. He might not be able to catch ‘72, but he can still get an infection if it’s not cleaned. Fortunately, this isn’t even close to the first time they’ve dealt with mongrel wounds on a hunt. Though this is the first time Sam has been this silent and this… _still_ as Gabriel tends camp and cleans and bandages first his calf, then his arm. Thankfully that silence includes not mentioning the tremor in Gabriel’s hands. These hands that just put down his best friend. Shit.

Shit! He hates this fucking world.

“There you are, Scarface. Or should I call you Scararm? Don’t quite have the same ring to it, though, do it?” He presses his palm over the bandages before sliding what’s left of Sam’s ripped-up sleeve back down. “You’re gonna have some pretty nice ones to show off to all the camp boys when we get home.” He shakes his head, remembering all of Sam's scars, the ones he's seen him get firsthand and a few he's only heard stories about. “Not that you need any new ones to add to your collection.”

When this, like all his other comments since they got back to camp, is met with nothing, he exhales slowly, a big lump of _something_ hitching in his throat. Those usually stupidly broad shoulders of his partner and friend seem much smaller in some peculiar way. All of Sam seems smaller, and _god_ does he want to hug him. But Sam probably doesn’t want his filthy hands touching him more than he has to. Not after what he just came back from doing. Fuck. Fuck!

He should really give Sam some space. Yeah. He should totally give Sam some space.

That determination lasts about five seconds before he brushes a lock of hair from Sam’s forehead. He never claimed to be anything but selfish, and he’s got to see those sunflower eyes, so he tilts Sam’s chin up with a curled finger. “Hey. Can I-Can I maybe hear you say something just so I can--” Eyebrows. Who fucking knew so much could be said with eyebrows? All scrunched together. Low, but tilted upwards. And those damn eyes, usually so _determined_ \--now hazy and slack.

“Gabriel,” Sam says, and the word comes out _thick_.

He doesn’t get the chance to hug him first because Sam sorta _falls_ on him, head to his shoulder, damp nose in his neck, letting out a tiny, muffled sound right there. And shit. Ok, Gabriel gets his arms around him, his heart oddly going _ba-thump_. He ignores it, tugging him close and breathing soft reassurances into his hair for… he’s not sure how long.

Somehow Sam always smells like woods and campfire and charcoal, no matter how many mildew-rotting-banana houses he goes into. It’s nice. That scent. Gabriel has always liked it when he’s been near enough to catch it. He doesn’t think he’s ever been quite this near, though, Sam’s brown tumbling hair just under his chin, sliding through his fingers where he’s apparently started combing through the strands without noticing. Charcoal and campfire and woods, concentrated and pure. Somehow, that scent lulls Gabriel. Safe place. This is his safe place.

He doesn’t know when he stopped murmuring or how long they’ve been sitting there, but he’s so lulled he doesn’t even notice at first when Sam shifts. He blinks when he finds him an inch away, really, really close--like woah--but his brain doesn’t quite _get it_ for a solid five seconds after lips press against his.

And… and… wait… What??

Eyes widening, Gabriel’s mouth goes slack. But Sam… Sam doesn’t seem to mind, kissing him harder. Warm. Until Gabriel’s motor functions come shakily back to him, and he grips Sam’s arms, gently pushing him back. Because… because of course he does. Because…

He’s straight.

Reddened, glistening eyes look back at him. Eyes he’s always found somehow… sparkling. And warm. A flush slashes across those cheekbones, and Gabriel’s heart goes _ba-thump_. Again. It goes _ba-thump_.

Uh, uh, what?

“S-Sambo,” he says, the words he has to say hiding away in the back of his throat. Fuck, this is… He doesn’t want to hurt Sam any more than he’s already been hurt today.

Those eyebrows push even closer together, Sam’s lips tightly pursed. Those lips that were just kissing him.

And--no, don’t think about that.

“Sam, you’re upset. …Confused. I’m sorry,” he says in little more than a breath, “but you know I’m not gay.”

He’s never been able to quite picture a face _crumpling_ until right now. Because Sam’s face _crumples_ , and Gabriel’s heart kind of _crumples_ right along with it.

“Gabriel,” Sam breathes, the tears on his cheeks aching for Gabriel’s thumbs to swipe off. “I’m in love with you.”

It’s like the world just whites away into nothingness. What is breathing? What even is breathing? And how are the tiniest sounds so shatteringly loud? The fire crackles, the wind whispering between them. A lock of Sam’s hair getting caught and flipping from one side of his forehead to the other.

And wow. Okay. _This_ is what it’s like to be dumbstruck.

Gabriel doesn’t like it. He definitely does not like it. He needs words. Words to fill up the silence. Words are his shield and his distraction, and he has… none of them. Not a breath sighs from his throat.

He’s just still. Just staring into those damned reddened, crystalline eyes, until his thumbs brush away those tear tracks without his conscious command, and those reddened, _hopeful_ eyes blink at him.

Sam is his best friend, but he never thought… He never considered that he might be…

He doesn’t seem able to move when Sam’s gaze switches from his eyes to his lips before he leans in again. Their mouths touch… and then press together, and this time, Gabriel’s eyes slide shut. A sigh of a breath still not his own breezes past his cheek, and then Sam tilts his head, his chin tipping up so their lips press and graze and then melt. And it’s a good kiss. It’s a really _fucking_ good kiss, the fact that it’s with a man barely even factors in, the scruff against his palm not bad… just strange.

A tongue slips past his lips to rub against his. _Twist_ with his before Gabriel remembers what’s happening. _Who_ he’s kissing--Sam. Fucking vulnerable, hurt, _confused_ Sam when he doesn’t even _know_ what he might or might not feel for him. He doesn’t know what the hell is happening! But he knows he--he _can’t_ do this.

His hands back on Sam’s arms, he pushes him away a second time, feeling dizzy and stupid and _ditzy_. “W-Wait, stop,” he stutters, his mouth feeling tingly and uncoordinated. “Sam, I don’t… I-I’m not…”

Sam stares back at him fuzzily, a tear escaping past eyelashes and down a cheek, and Gabriel feels like a mongrel has slashed open his chest.

Sam seems to come back to himself--suddenly, the haze disappearing, and his eyes dropping to Gabriel’s hands before Sam jerks backwards, out of his grip. “I’m sorry,” he croaks, then clearer “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Said that. Any of that. I-I’m just…” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he voice cracks, and he stands, abruptly, turning away so Gabriel can’t see his face. And what’s left of Gabriel’s piecemeal heart shatters. But what _the hell_ can he say? Do? He’s not… He’s never been… He doesn’t even know where to begin to process this and… fuck, he doesn’t want to _hurt_ Sam any more.

Before he can even gather his thoughts to figure out what to say, Sam drags his hands down his face, clearly wiping away the tears Gabriel missed. And when he speaks his voice is deep, _carefully_ steady. “Can you take the first watch? I need to sleep.”

“Oh… yeah. Of course. Yeah, of course.”

Nodding, Sam stands there for another second, then unrolls the sleeping bag near the fire, removes his boots, and slides inside. He turns onto his side away from Gabriel.

And that’s… it. The end of this fucked up day. Gabriel sits on his own, feeling like a piece of shit on someone’s shoe, hugging himself and staring at the floppy hair sticking out at the top of the sleeping bag… and aching.

*******

“Gabriel, I have to apologize for last night.”

The air is sort of pale with the beginning of dawn and cool with the set-in of autumn. And Gabriel is only halfway through his precious cup of coffee after a night of little-to-restless sleep, but he’s wide awake anyway. Except… except, “Huh?” he grunts gracefully.

Sam is rolling up the sleeping bag, dousing the remains of the fire with dirt, and such. “I’m really sorry, Gabe. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Oh,” Gabriel starts. Last night’s events having played themselves over and over in his head all night. He still doesn’t know what to say to Sam, but one thing he did realize was he kind of… No, he definitely liked it. “No, actually, Sam, I--”

“Truth is, I was so bitter and lonely after… “ He trails off, his lips thinning as he works. “So I latched onto you. It was a mistake.”

It’s like… The world stops spinning for a second. Gabriel blinks, looking up a Sam.

“I was confused. You’re my best friend, Gabe, but you’re _just_ my best friend.”

Gabriel really doesn’t feel anything at first. At least for the first few seconds. It’s like defenses spring up around that center in his chest where emotions spawn.

“I really didn’t mean any of it, and I hope you can forget it.”

And then they come crashing down.

Sam glances at him with an apologetic smile, but Gabriel finds he somehow can’t quite meet his gaze. His plastic, reusable, lidded cup of joe is suddenly fascinating.

Of course it was a mistake.

A mistake.

Just a stupid mistake.

******

He told Sam that he could forget it--that he _had_ already forgotten it. Because… obviously. The fact that was a total, bald-faced lie didn’t even factor in. What else could he say?

Unfortunately, he can’t forget it. Well, actually, it’s suddenly, like, the only thing he can think about. Every little freaking millisecond of it. And the part he keeps coming back to?

Sam’s voice, breathing, _I’m in love with you._

That wasn’t a lie, he _knows_ it wasn’t a lie.

And on top of that, it’s like someone stole his eyes and gave him new ones. Because he never used to look at Sam like this before. Anytime he thinks he won’t be noticed he… watches him. But a lot less vampire-novel-watch-you-as-you-sleep-stalker like that had sounded and a lot more… I-never-realized-how-fucking-gorgeous-you-are.

Of course, none of this matters because Sam regretted it and forgot about it ten seconds later, and then Sam returns to being Sam. Just… Sam. For him, apparently, the kiss and everything else was not earth-shattering, since for the following two-ish weeks they’re scavenging and taking the long trek home, _he’s just Sam_. The usual, professional, but easy-going, genius but laughs-at-his-stupid-jokes, nerdy, geeky, kind-hearted _Sam_. Okay, maybe a little quieter without Bones, but otherwise…

While he’s carrying on, every day that passes brings a new pain to Gabriel’s chest, an ache deep inside that just won’t go away.

It’s with resounding clarity one morning after Sam chuckles about some joke Gabriel cracked and then… stretches, his shirt rising over a riff of skin Gabriel can’t tear his eyes from, that he realizes he doesn’t just like Sam. He really, _really_ likes Sam. And he _wants_ Sam. Fucking hell, he wants Sam.

They’ve been back at camp nearly two days now, and this is the first time since the morning after the kiss he hasn’t acted himself.

They have this… unspoken tradition--meeting at the East Bonfire the first, or at latest, the second night after they get back from a hunt. Drink old man Bobby’s moonshine. Celebrate the fact they’re home and alive. Regale their trip to anyone who’ll listen or just to each other.

But apparently not this trip.

He hasn’t seen Sam since they parted ways at the gate. He wasn’t there last night, and he’s still not here tonight, and Gabriel can’t seem to stop _looking_ for him.

The fire is crackling, everybody else is drinking too much, talking and laughing. But for once Gabriel doesn’t really want any moonshine.

And then Gabriel catches sight of someone familiar in the distance and sits up. It takes him a second to find him again, but then he sees him over by the pink apartments graffitied with that lovely pink dick no one has had the heart (or… possibly the time) to wash off. He’s halfway to his feet when he realizes there’s someone else with Sam and freezes.

Wait, is that… Brady?

Brady… the renowned troll among camp who’s slept with pretty much any queer or questioning guy he’s been able to get his hands on, which, hey, kudos to him, except for the fact he’s also an asshole. Sam’s never seen it, but Gabriel _knows_ people he’s betrayed, and he’s--he’s a jackass, and Sam has never returned his flirtation before, except now he’s…

Brady’s got his arm around him… and… and they’re headed towards Sam’s tent, and… Sam’s _laughing_ , and…

Gabriel is halfway across the courtyard before he even realizes he’s moving. They’re already disappearing behind a corner out of his sight, and he doesn’t want them alone. He already fucking suspects what they’re both heading towards, and how he’s going to convince Sam not to sleep with that guy doesn’t factor in, he’s just going to _do_ it.

When he turns the corner and sees Sam pressed up against the wall with Brady’s hand on his crotch and their mouths glued together, his vision goes black around the edges. His fingers dig in harder than necessary when he yanks Brady away, but he doesn’t even feel the sting when his knuckles crack against his jaw.

“What the fuck!” Brady shouts as he stumbles back, clutching his face.

“What--Gabriel!?” Sam exclaims. “What the hell!”

“Sam, this guy is a jackass!”

Rolling his eyes, Sam snaps back, “Don’t you think I know what I’m doing?”

The ten-foot-tall ex-Marine turned post-apocalyptic hunter who’s smarter than the whole camp combined? Yeah. Right. Definitely doesn’t have a clue.

“I-I’m--You--” he stutters, looking at Sam and… and just… God, he fucking wants to neurotically kiss away every one of Brady’s traces on Sam’s skin. And this revelation, this thing, this feeling pumping in his chest--it’s been coming to him slow every day over the last fortnight, but suddenly it slams into him hard.

…Shit. This fucking feeling is…

Concentrate!

Shaking the thought out of his head for the moment, Gabriel says, “Sam, I know it was a mistake and all that, but this guy is a jackass. And I was an idiot the last four years, I know, but I like you. I _really_ like you. If you have to have sex tonight, have sex with _me._ It doesn’t have to mean anything in the morning if you don’t want it to, just--” He runs out of words and out of patience, too agitated to study the expression on Sam’s face, so he grabs a fistful of his shirt and kisses him instead.

Kisses Sam’s shock-rigid lips while that whole heartbeat thing reaches new levels. It’s like one of those damn cliche manga he’s got stacks of back in his tent because the whole damn world disappears, and it’s just him and Sam, up against a wall, _kissing_. He barely even hears the disgusted sound Brady makes ‘cause he’s too busy shivering when Sam’s mouth goes weak and opens to his prodding tongue. He gives himself one last second to taste him, a hand buried in his Marine’s gorgeous, tuggable hair, and then pulls back.

There’s a faint blush on Sam’s cheeks that’s spread to his lips that makes Gabriel’s dick stand up and take notice, his blood pounding in his ears. Please, Goddess.

“Have sex with me,” he repeats shakily, ignoring everything but Sam even as Sam glances over Gabriel’s shoulder at, he’s sure, Brady.

“Gabriel, I…”

His fingers tighten in Sam’s hair, silently asking him to look at him. Sam complies, and Gabriel repeats, “Have sex with _me_.”

He analyzes him staunchly, his eyebrows low and hard, and Gabriel can’t decide if he’s just going to turn him down or actually give him a black eye to match the one he gave Brady, which--considering--he frankly deserves. But instead, he looks over Gabriel’s shoulder again.

“Brady,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

“What-the-fuck-ever! Don’t come crying to me next time your boyfriend doesn’t put out,” Brady spits, sauntering off as Sam’s eyes return to Gabriel’s.

Sam still looks angry. Or confused. Or… something. Gabriel licks his lips, but he doesn’t get to say anything because Sam takes his hand and tugs him all the way back to his tent, one of the few on this side of the camp near the forest. It’s handmade, extra thick with insulation to keep out the weather and tall, tall enough Sam only has to duck briefly to step inside, and then he can stand without having to slouch.

Gabriel’s been in here a dozen dozen times, but for some reason it seems far more close… _intimate_ tonight, with a single dim lantern in the corner and Sam stepping close. He can feel his breath on his face, and somehow Gabriel has never been more calm in his life.

Sam to duck down to kiss him, only a light peck at first. But then another, and another, the angle slightly different, but the tone all the same. Experimental, almost, like he’s afraid now they’re here Gabriel’s gonna turn tail and run. What he doesn’t realize yet is that Gabriel isn’t going anywhere--ever, hopefully.

Sure, it’s a little strange kissing your best friend, but it’s also… somehow… perfect.

When he tries to peck him again, Gabriel catches him by the shoulders and holds him there. He deepens the kiss until puffed snatches of their breath fill the quiet, the perpetual noise of camp distant and dulled in here. Gabriel barely even hears it, consumed with Sam’s taste and touch and anxious sighs of breath.

It’s Sam who starts stripping them first. His fingers go to the buttons of Gabriel’s shirt and pops them one by one, getting a little fidgety on the last two and then yanking the shirt off all the way with an eagerness that surprises Gabriel. They still don’t say a word, trading only glances and breathless kisses and exploratory touches…

After that, they strip quickly, clothes sliding from shoulders and hips, boots and socks toed off until they tumble onto the frameless mattress in the corner that takes up most of the tent. 

Gabriel admits he’s a little nervous now. He’s never done this, and he doesn’t know what Sam wants to do… But as if reading his mind, Sam squeezes lube into their palms and pulls Gabriel on top of him. His adam’s apple bobs as he meets Gabriel’s eyes before tearing away as he reaches between them and lines up their cocks. He grips them both in his big hand, and Gabriel shudders at the feeling of Sam’s burning hot cock pressed against his, hard and long, and Gabriel shakes with how much he _likes_ it.

“Just this,” Sam whispers, the first words he’s uttered since dragging Gabriel back here. He slides his free hand into Gabriel’s hair, pushing it from his forehead. “Just like this.”

Heart half jumping over itself, Gabriel nods and adds his own hand to their grip, just over Sam’s, thrilling at the way Sam physically shudders and drops his head back on a pillow when he brushes his thumb over Sam’s slit.

It takes a minute for Gabriel to find the right coordination. But then they find a rhythm and… _oh_. Hell. It’s good. Really fucking good. He’s so turned on his brain can’t seem to process the scene in anything but snapshots.

Rutting.

Sam’s flushed cheeks and sweat-streaked hair.

Black filled eyes and wordless gasps and moans.

And pleasure, pleasure _building_ inside of him boundless and endless, heightened by the reflection of intensity in Sam’s eyes, as they _feed _off each other’s ecstasy, hands sliding slippery on hot flesh.__

__It gets harder and harder to stay quiet, and he gasps and moans and whispers Sam’s name in a hoarse voice until he can’t breathe anymore, and he gasps and jerks, leaking white onto Sam’s stomach as his Marine follows him over seconds later and they collapse into a trembling heap of lax muscles and twitching pleasure._ _

__***_ _

__Sam is still unconscious. But as wiped as that fucking amazing orgasm made him, Gabriel can’t sleep. Doesn’t _want_ to sleep. Doesn’t wanna miss a second of… this._ _

__Somehow Sam made himself small enough to tuck into Gabriel’s arms. That forest smell of his coming off his skin and hair stronger than ever, mixed with sweat and sex. And. Gabriel just. Kind of wants to _burst_._ _

__Like, they’re gonna have to talk and actually, you know, communicate because Gabriel doesn’t think he can take just one night of being with Sam. But that’s okay. He’s up for it. He’s up for anything if it will let him spend more nights with Sam tucked in his arms._ _

__Especially since something is making itself clearer every second in an annoyingly fuzzy way in his chest. To be totally honest, he’s a little bit terrified about it, but…_ _

__Brushing a few strands of hair from Sam’s ear, he glances at him to make sure he’s still breathing slow and his eyes are shut--they are._ _

__So, leaning in close, he places a kiss just below the curl of an earlobe, and for the first time in his life, he says the words._ _

__“I love you back.”_ _


End file.
